


Of Tongue and Pen

by piperholmes



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: And Anne!, And Winnie deserves some happiness, F/M, Fluffy fic, Gilbert decides to ask the right questions, Let these children be children for a little longer, Shirbert, also mentions of Ka’kwet, and possible ideas, but really, it’s about discoverying what’s important, my boi Blythe needs to be young for a second, pengate 1899, so I’m throwing my hat in the ring, speculation fic, that is really more like fantasy, there is a lot going on around the pen, with a dash of angst for flavor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-29 05:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21404920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperholmes/pseuds/piperholmes
Summary: When Gilbert returns Anne’s pen, he is reminded of what’s important and what it means to live a passionate life. He finally begins to understand he needs to ask the right questions. Now featuring an epilogue!
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe & Anne Shirley
Comments: 26
Kudos: 228





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of speculation going around about the importance of the pen from 3x08. I love the idea of the pen meaning something to Anne and Gilbert because so much of their relationship is about language and the art of language (too bad they suuuuuck so much at communication ^_^). But also Winnifred deserves to be given more than the role of Gilbert’s arm candy. So here is an attempt to imagine one possible avenue.
> 
> This also includes a rather idealized attempt to address Ka’kwet’s situation. in reality it is difficult to know that these schools lasted for far too long, and that they existed at all.
> 
> This is big time unbeta’d so I’m sure typos and such abound.

He wasn’t quite sure why he did it. Actually, that wasn’t true. He wasn’t quite willing to admit to himself why he did it. He’d been tiding up, or attempting to, before Hazel had shooed him out of the kitchen. Gilbert had tried assuring her he placed no expectations on her and that he was grateful for her help, but still she kept a polite distance. And Gilbert didn’t know what to do to help. So he mostly stayed out of her way. It’d been a week since he’d made the decision to propose to Winnie, but Gilbert was no closer to resolving the heavy gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. He thought that clarity of mind and conviction of purpose would translate into a liberation from doubt.

Instead he’d found himself occupied with odd jobs on the farm, getting the work done that both he and Bash had been avoiding: mucking out the unused stalls in the barn, getting the snakes from underneath the house, pruning down the apple trees. Gilbert had pretended not to notice Bash’s sad look and disappointed shake of the head. It was easier that way.

Wasn’t that just how Gilbert wanted it? Easier?

Hazel had come to gather his clothes to launder, but Gilbert had stood quickly to take the bundle from out of her arms, doing his best to kindly insist he’d take care of his own washing and that she had plenty to do taking care of Delphine, when a heavy thunk had hit the floor. 

Anne’s pen.

He closed his eyes in frustration, remembering he’d borrowed it from her when they last studied together. 

He’d been avoiding her, and he hated it, but he had a feeling she was avoiding him too. 

His face burned with embarrassment as he thought of that night, the way she danced in the firelight, so full of life. 

Empty. That was how he felt. Empty. Those nights alone when he’d worried whether he’d awaken to find his dad had slipped away as he slept, those night alone in the house after his father passed, those nights alone on the boat before he’d met Bash. He knew emptiness. He feared it.

But that was a boy’s fear. And a boy’s fear had no place amid a man’s expectations.

He was supposed to be heading to the train soon. Headed to Charlottetown to meet Winnifred for tea. To propose.

So why he was saddling up his horse and headed to Green Gables, Anne’s pen in his hand, he refused to wonder. He knew what he was supposed to do. And he would do it. Gilbert always did the right thing.

As soon as he slid from the horse he saw Anne dash from the house, Marilla calling after her, both women distressed. Anne stopped suddenly when she spied him, her face red, eyes glassy, her stunned expression soon collapsing into grief as she turned from him and ran to the barn.

“Anne?” He called, but she gave no indication she’d heard him.

He made quick work of tying off the horse before turning to Ms. Cuthbert. “What’s happened?”

“Oh Gilbert,” Marilla cried, her hands wringing about anxiously in her apron. “That little sava—uh, Mi’kmaq girl that was friends with Anne. Her father just came by to ask Anne if she’d be willing to come visit because it seems the little girl was treated quite badly at the school…quite badly.” 

As her voice died out, Gilbert felt his stomach drop. Marilla Cuthbert wasn’t one given to dramatics. If she believed someone had been mistreated, then he knew there was something terribly wrong. 

“Anne blames herself,” she said quietly, sadly.

“What?” Gilbert tried to keep his tone even, but he couldn’t connect the two in his head. Anne would never knowingly be responsible for another person’s pain.

“She feels like she encouraged her, and it seems she went to visit her once but was turned away.”

Gilbert didn’t wait to hear more, his body moved, his mind focused on finding Anne, comforting Anne.

He found her in the loft of the barn. Head buried against her knees, unmindful of the hay sticking to her stocking or the smell of dirt and manure that permitted the air. Heartache radiated from her.

“Anne,” he whispered.

“Oh Gilbert,” she cried. “How could they do that to her? They took Ka’kwet and cut off all her beautiful raven hair, they beat her and starved her. She must have felt so afraid and alone, so abandoned.”

Her words were lost as she gave way to the unbelievable pain of it all. Gilbert hesitated, unsure how to help. Then he remembered the feeling of her arms coming around him, giving him something warm, something real, to hold onto as he’d wept for Mary.

With no thought to his fine clothes, he knelt down beside her and wrapped his arms as tightly as he could about her shoulders. He felt Anne stiffen at first, then her own need for human comfort gave way and she fell against him.

“How could I encourage her to go?” She sobbed. “How could I not tell there was something wrong?”

Gilbert shushed her gently, rocking them back and forth as he did with a fussy Delly, only this time he was sure this wouldn’t be enough to calm Anne’s sadness.

Anne pulled back suddenly, her eyes red and frantic, her cheeks slick with tears. “Her family is afraid they are going to come for her. We have to do something! And what about all the other children in that place? We can’t let them take her back. We have to do something. I won’t let them take her back to that orphanage!”

Gilbert’s brow lowered, his eyes intent on hers.

‘S—school,” she stammered, dropping her gaze to the floor. “I meant to say that school…Gilbert what are we going to do?”

She still sat, encircled in his arms, her tears quietly falling, and Gilbert knew he’d move the earth to help her. He willed his mind to quiet, to focus on the issue before him. 

He felt something hard digging into his side and remembered her pen in his pocket. 

An idea took shape.

“We’ll do what we do best Anne,” he said, dropping his arms from her to scramble the pen out from the inside of his jacket pocket. “We’ll write about it.”

He held her pen out to her. 

“But the printing press—“

“A writing campaign I mean,” he interrupted. “We’ll get the whole town involved. We’ll write to the Board in Charlottetown and demand they shut it down.”

“Yes,” Anne cried, nodding, moving to stand, her body now shaking with purpose. “And we’ll get the members of our board to officially sign off on the writing campaign. Marilla and Rachel both will help us. Mrs. Lynde was in favor of the school, but once she hears what’s happened, surely she wouldn’t standby while children are being hurt.”

“We can get the newspaper crew involved with writing letters,” Gilbert suggested.

“And Aunt Jo!” Anne nearly shouted. “She’s still in Avonlea. She will have lots of friends in Charlottetown.”

“And I believe Dr. Ward knows quiet a few members on the board in Charlottetown as well. I’ll speak with him today, see if he can’t help us persuade them into action.”

At his mention of Charlottetown Anne stilled, her large blue eyes flying back up to his. The heavy feeling in his stomach returned and Gilbert had to bite his tongue from saying something that would embarrass them both. 

“Gilbert,” Anne said softly, hesitantly. “I wish—”

For a moment they stood silent, brown eyes meeting blue, as they had time and time before. Always meeting and always fleeing. A cycle of unspoken and unrealized. 

“I wish I could give you what she can,” she said suddenly, before grabbing the pen from his hand and dashing down the ladder and out of the barn.

Gilbert longed to follow her, to spend the day rallying the town together, but he had responsibilities and he had a time table.

He quickly rode to the train station, stabled the horse in the town livery, and barely made it before the train began to pull off. He tried to practice his proposal in his head, but nothing sounded right, and instead he focused on what he would say when he spoke to Dr. Ward.

He looked about the train car and wished he didn’t feel so alone.

Dr. Ward was, as Gilbert expected, outraged to hear his report on how the school was treating the children. He readily agreed to help in any way he could, then with a raised eyebrows, asked if Gilbert had thought anymore about his future in medicine and whether Dr. Ward was going to need to find not only a new intern but a new secretary as well.

Turning bright red, Gilbert had mumbled something about working on his future before making his excuses.

He realized he still had some time before Winnie expected him so he walked about the town, until he found a secluded spot where he could practice what he wanted to say.

“Winnifred, will you marry me?”

“Winnifred Rose, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

“Winnie, I—I wonder if you—”

He couldn’t figure out why it sounded wrong. These were the words men had used for centuries. 

Why did it sound so…

Empty?

_Marry for love. Only for love._

Gilbert felt his heart pound. ‘What do I do Mary?” He whispered. He suddenly longed to be home, sitting at the table with Bash and Delly, being teased for his poor cooking. He missed Mary and their happy home together. 

He tried to picture his future with Winnifred. He pictured her smiling face, her witty teasing, her kindness. He cared for her and valued her friendship. He saw a future of brandy and cigars and staid evenings at the club. Was there anything wrong with that? It was a success of a kind.

As he made his way to the tea shop he felt entirely separated from the world, couldn’t help wondering what Anne was doing and how excited she’d be when he reported back about Dr. Ward’s help.

Winnie sat waiting for him in the window. Their table.

He smiled. 

There was a tension in the air. 

Expectation.

Gilbert always met expectation.

He always did the right thing.

He greeted her with a soft hello. She’d already ordered for them, and filled some of the awkward silence with news of her father and mother.

“Gilbert, you do seem a bit preoccupied,” she said. “Have you anything on your mind?”

Her tone was teasing, light, and unchallenging. 

“Winnie, can I ask you something?”

Her cheeks pinked. “Of course.”

“Why did you clerk for Dr. Ward?”

Her brow drew together in a dainty frown, “I’m sorry?”

“I realized I never asked. It just doesn’t seem like an obvious choice for a woman of your station. I actually wonder why I never asked,” he admitted, a bit sheepishly.

“Oh, well, as a little girl I loved learning about how things worked, how blood moved through the body, how the lungs pulled in air, how nails grew. I had an uncle who was a doctor. He would bring me the most delicious items to examine. I learned all the bones of the hand when I was 12. I dreamed of being a doctor,” she said, her own voice suddenly shy. “But of course that’s not a possibility for me.”

“Why not?”

She raised an eyebrow, her look growing sardonic. “As you say, Mr. Blythe, it isn’t exactly an obvious choice for someone of my station. My father was willing to indulge me somewhat. I believe he thinks it was a great compromise allowing me to work with Dr. Ward before I marry, but there would be no support beyond that.”

“So you just gave up your dream?”

She scoffed at him, hiding her hurt behind a thin smile. “Gilbert, where is this coming from?”

He blushed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But I never heard you talk about any of this.”

“What’s there to talk about? I’m a woman Gilbert. Women do not become doctors.”

He grinned at her. “I believe I know someone you should speak with. Her name is Dr. Emily Oaks. Ms. Stacy, my teacher in Avonlea knows her. I’m sure she’d be happy—”

“Happy to what?” Winnie interrupted. “I don’t mean to be ungrateful to your consideration, but there is a difference between a dream and a fantasy.”

_No matter where life takes me, I now know I must be a relentless thorn in the side of those who refuse to amend the status quo._

Suddenly he knew the right question to ask.

“Winnifred, do you want to marry me?”

She blinked at him.

“What do you want? Really want? What’s your passion? I should have asked you this a long time ago. I’m sorry I didn’t.

“What’s going on Gilbert?” She asked.

“I’ve been so wrapped up in trying to figure out my future that I lost sight of what’s important. You’re important Winnie. You’ve been a good friend to me. I want to be a good friend to you. I don’t wish to appear impertinent but do you love me?”

“What a ridiculous question,” she answered, though her tone lacked any bite. An uncertainty had taken root in her expression. “Love is for children. You and I get along well. I enjoy your company. My parents like you.”

“And that’s enough for you? That’s your passion? What do you long for Winnie?” He didn’t mean to push her, to press her where she didn’t want to go, but he had to know. There had to be more. There was such a thing as too easy.

She pressed her lips together. “I don’t get to long for things Gilbert. I have expectations.”

Lifeless.

“I don’t believe that,” he said. “You deserve to marry for love. Only for love. If...marriage is what you want.”

He could see her confusion, and for once he saw something more than the perfectly put together woman. He saw a glimpse of fear and hope messily mixed together. “And is that what you want? To marry for love?”

It was his turn to hesitate.

“Do you love _me_ Gilbert Blythe?”

They both knew the answer as soon as the words left her lips. It hung heavy in the air between them.

“Well,” she breathed, a tight grip of her emotions. “I suppose that’s that. Father will be quite disappointed”

Gilbert reached out suddenly to take her hand. “But how do you feel?”

“I—I don’t quite know,” she said honestly. “I was raised to believe that I was doing the right thing by marrying you. I suppose I am disappointed. To be free to run my own household, to enjoy the liberty of a married woman, only—”

Gilbert quirked an eyebrow at her. “Only?”

“Does your Ms. Stacy really know a female doctor?”

“Let’s take a walk. I think you and I have a lot to discuss.”

The train ride back to Avonlea felt like it took forever. He knew he should ride home, tell Bash what had happened but all he could think about was getting to Anne and helping her change the world.

He threw off his suit jacket and vest and rode straight to Green Gables. As he expected, the Cuthbert’s kitchen was filled with people. Mrs. Lynde was busy dictating letters to a flustered Moody, while Ruby, Josie, and Diana were copying down Ka’Kwet’s story.

“You’re back,” Anne cried, surprised to see him, nearly dropping the tray of plum puffs. “Already?”

He gave a small smile, taking the tray from her hands and setting it on the table. He wordlessly took her hand in his and led her out onto the porch. Ignoring the eyes that now followed their every move.

Once they were outside, the gray light of twilight casting them in shadow, Gilbert turned to her, his hand still holding hers. “I spoke with Dr. Ward. He’s going to reach out to his contacts on the board tomorrow.”

Anne nodded at him, her eyes wide and uncertain. “That’s…uh….that’s great. And—how was—is Winnifred?”

“She’s good,” he said. A slow smile spreading. “She’s excited to talk to Ms. Stacy.”

Anne’s mouth worked but no sound emerged, and Gilbert nearly laughed, though he doubt she’d appreciate hearing him comparing her to a fish and chose not to comment. 

“A-about your wedding?” Anne tried to reason.

Gilbert shook his head. “We aren’t getting married.”

Anne’s eyes filled with compassion and he felt a bit of a heel. “Oh Gilbert. I’m so sorry. Are you ok?”

“I’m doing quite well. And so is she.”

He reached up to gently cup her cheek. “We both realized there was something more for us out there. We were good together, but neither of us deserve to settle for what’s good. I plan to have a life full of love and happiness. And I will wait. I will wait for the girl with the beautiful fiery red hair and the temper to match. For the girl who challenges me to be better. The girl who’s known heartache and grief and yet is filled with compassion. Who will make a great teacher, wife, mother, activist, whatever she sets her mind to”

His eyes were now intent on hers. And she nearly wept with relief. This was them. She longed for him to look at her in that familiar way. To know it was meant for her and her alone. Somewhere along the way it had become their secret, their home, their love. 

“I want to be that for you, Gilbert,” she said. “I just don’t know if I can be that right now.”

She expected his face to fall, for him to turn from her in disappointment, but he only smiled at her. “That’s alright.”

He knelt down in front of her and Anne’s eye grew even larger in the silvery light.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, would you do me the honor of courting me?”

She shoved him for scaring her, then laughingly flung her arms around his neck causing them both to fall.

The pair laughed until Anne grew serious. “But what about the Sorbonne? Your dream?”

“Dreams should make us happy,” he said simply. “And you make me happy Anne-girl. The rest we’ll figure out together.”

She said nothing, just lay back down with him for a moment longer. They knew they couldn’t be caught like this, especially with Rachel Lynde in the house. They knew they had work to do to help the children still held in the school. They knew they had futures to navigate and decide.

But for now, for this moment, they didn’t worry about any of it. They were caught in a world of young and old, and they could take their time. Though Gilbert did have one request.

“Can we not tell Bash right away?”

The end.


	2. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Life continues on through marriage, war, children, and a sudden reacquaintance can bring joy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here’s an epilogue no one asked for and I never assumed I’d write. But I was inspired by the comments left on the first chapter and this idea formed and demanded to be written!
> 
> Thanks to everyone who commented or left kudos on the first chapter! Hopefully you enjoy this small addition.

Ontario, 1920

Gilbert Blythe felt the muscles in his lower back tighten and did his best to twist left then right without drawing any attention. The room felt stuffy and his stomach growled. The medical conference had been illuminating, leaving Gilbert excited to get back to work, but it has been a long week, and he was ready to be back home to his own bed. There was one more presentation before the break dinner, and Gilbert felt himself getting fidgety. 

“We will now turn the time over to Dr. W.L. Rose who will be speaking to the latest in development of prosthetic limb and facial reconstruction,” the moderator spoke, before stepping from the podium and making way for a distinguished looking woman.

Gilbert froze, squinting his eyes as he worked to reconcile what he was seeing with what he was remembering.

A young girl, smiling and teasing.  
A grown woman made more regal with age.  
  
Her eyes still held a playful merriment, but the gentle lines in the skin of her face spoke to a hard won maturity.

“Winifred?” He whispered.

Her lithe, clear voice spoke eloquently and confidently, and Gilbert had the strongest sense of nostalgia for a world of hot tea and sweet cakes.

He forced himself to focus, to listen as she spoke of all the work she and her team had put into developing better and more useful prosthetics for soldiers who’d spent years trying to come home from the front. Gilbert had two patients back home who had lost legs and one who’d lost an arm. Any possible help to get them more mobile and active would be of great value. He scribbled down some notes and was surprised when her speech ended, unaware the hour had come to a close.

Once the applause had died down Gilbert scrambled to his feet and made his way towards the stage, pressing through the throng, eager to catch her eye.

“Winifred!” He called, “Dr. Rose!”

She looked up from the small group that had gathered around her, a confused look on her face, until she took him in fully, a bright smile spreading across her face.

“Well, my goodness, Gilbert Blythe.”

He felt breathless, and struggled to know what to say. It’d been nearly twenty years since he’d last seen her. “Winnie…it’s good to see you.”

“Well the years have certainly been kind to you Mr. Blythe,” she said cheekily, taking in the way his face and shoulders had filled out, a silver curl or two peeping out from his thick dark hair, a handsome, seasoned man now. 

“Doctor actually,” he corrected good-naturedly. “Like you.”

They shared a laugh, though what was funny neither could have said. 

“I had no idea,” Gilbert started. “ I hadn’t heard anything from you since you moved to France.”

She nodded, looking about this still well filled room before asking, “Do you have dinner plans?”

Gilbert frowned. “I do actually…but can I walk you back to the hotel? Are you staying there?”

“I am. Lead the way Dr. Blythe.”

The pair moved out of the crowded room, neither saying anything until they stepped out into the cooling spring day.

“I have to say I’m so surprised to see you,” Gilbert said suddenly. “Tell me, what happened after you left Canada?”

“Well, I considered what you and I spoke about, and I did manage to speak with Dr. Oaks. She was rather inspiring. So I decided if anyone was going to benefit from my father’s sponsorship to the Sorbonne it was going to be me.”

Gilbert stoped walking, his eyes going wide. “Good for you.”

She laughed. “Well he didn’t exactly agree, but I wore him down, and he eventually gave in, believing I would be done with such nonsense before the year was up.”

Gilbert just raised an eyebrow and Winnie laughed. 

“Yes, well, as you can see, I stuck with it. I found a great satisfaction working with amputees and tracked about Europe learning from the greatest minds in the profession. When the war broke out, well, as I’m sure you know, there was a demand for my particular expertise.” Her voice growing soft and a little sad, her eyes taking on a question that Gilbert had grown accustom to seeing.

“I did go,” he answered softly. “I was one of the lucky ones. I was in med camps mostly. Never had to carry a gun.”

She pressed her lips together but he could see she knew that anyone who had gone through the destruction of war was never lucky, but her work had also taught her to recognize the signs of those men who had no desire to talk about it. 

“I would actually love to speak with you about some men I care for, if you have the time,” he said, turning away from her too knowing look.

“Of course,” she said easily, a careful return to the light-hearted feeling of before. “And what if you? What have you been up to?”

Gilbert grasped the change in subject gladly. “I split my time between my practice and my work with Dr. Frederick Banting and Charles Best. We’re continuing the work of Oskar Minkowski and Joseph von Mering.”

“Really? You’re working on a treatment for diabetes?” She asked in wonder.

He nodded excitedly. “Yes, and we’re close to a break through. We’ve been extracting fluid from a healthy dog’s pancreas and injecting in a dog without a pancreas and the results have been incredible.”

“Goodness! That’s wonderful.”

Before he could respond a shout rang out, followed by a squeal of delight.

“Papa!” 

“Rilla Blythe don’t you dare run across the street!” A voice called sternly.

Gilbert’s face split into a large grin as he gave a quick, “Excuse me” and dashed into the street to scoop up a little girl who looked to be about six and a mirror of her father’s complexion into a tight hug. 

Trailing behind the little girl was a lovely woman with bright eyes and deep red hair, her cheeks pink, and smile wide, herding a small gaggle of children. 

“Oh Gilbert you’ll never believe what’s happened,” she cried, pausing only long enough to accept a kiss. “Agnes Macphail has declared her intentions to run for the House of Commons next year! Isn’t it wonderful? And she was eager to hear my ideas for total suffrage for all woman in Canada. And how was your day? Any exciting innovations? I want to hear all. But the children are starving. They’ve been so wonderfully patient all day. Even if Shirley and Nan got into a bit of a shoving match during lunch.”

Gilbert now had a little boy tugging his pant leg, clearly wanting his chance to say hello. Gilbert gave his shoulder a squeeze before reaching out to take his wife’s hand and lead the little troop towards the hotel and the woman waiting. 

“I want to hear all about it over dinner, but first. Anne, do you remember Dr. Winifred Rose?” Gilbert asked by way of introduction. “Dr. Rose, my wife Anne.”

Winifred tilted her head in memory before her eyes lit, “Anne? with an e?”

She extended her hand which Anne took, a somewhat surprised look on her face. “Winifred…Dr. Winifred…you’re a _doctor_? And you’re _here_?”

“Guilty on both counts,” laughed Winnie.

There was a moment of awkward silence and Gilbert felt a panic set in that he hadn’t felt since that warm summer so long ago..

“That’s amazing!” Anne declared suddenly. “Children, a female doctor! And your father is friends with her.”

“Are you really a doctor?” asked one of the girls, Winnie guesses to be around 11 or 12, a hint of excitement and awe in her voice.

“I am,” she answered with a smile. 

“Winnie these are our children, Jem, Walter, the twins Nan and Di, and our youngests Shirley and Rilla,” Gilbert said, unable to hide the note of pride. 

“Well you certainly have been busy,” Winnie teased, delighted by the shy look the grown doctor threw his wife, whose own cheeks were growing redder by the minute.

“Winifred just gave a brilliant presentation at the conference on prosthetic use and reconstructive surgery,” Gilbert squeaked our, shift Rilla to his hip.

“That’s wonderful,” gushed Anne. “So many young men returned home with…such wounds. Did you tell her about Messers Green and Stallwell? Such strong and inspiring men. And that sweet Mr. Ross. Gilbert does his best to help them regain as much mobility as possible but I know your brilliant work would be such a benefit. How long are you in town? Gilbert has one more day at the conference, but we are staying an extra day for a rally in town hall. We’ve made a lot of strides for women’s suffrage, but there are still too many women excluded from this basic right. We’d love to have you join.”

Winifred smiled, not the least put off by the other woman’s exuberance.. “Thank you for the invitation. You have my full support. Sadly my partner and I are leaving tomorrow afternoon. We are headed to New York to meet with a production company who may have a material that withstands better than the wood we’ve been using in our prosthetic.”

“Mama,” Shirley began to whine, his blue eyes so like his mother’s, unable to hide his feelings. “I’m awfully hungry.”

“Yes darling,” Anne appeased, taking his small hand in hers. “Of course. Gilbert?”

He answered her question with a nod, setting his smallest daughter on her feet. “Go ahead and take the children to the dining room. I’ll be right in.”

“It was lovely to see you again,” Anne said. “Children?” 

All six curtsied or bowed before following their mother into the hotel. Gilbert watched his family, sending Anne a quick wink and a reassuring smile.

“Well my word Gilbert, they are all absolutely darling.” 

“I’d invite you to join us for dinner but six children, as adorable as they are, turn feral by this time of the day. Patience has worn thin and there may be tears involved. And not just from the children.”

Winifred gave a rather unladylike snort. “That’s quite all right, I’m meeting my partner for dinner. I was going to invite you to join us earlier. Does your entire family always travel with you to these things?”   
  
“Whenever possible. Sometimes we travel for Anne’s work, but now that the children are a little older it’s become easier so we travel a bit more. Anne and I learned a long time ago that we work a lot better as a team. It hasn’t always been easy, but as my wife will tell you—often and very loudly—we are co-equals. Where I go she goes and vice a versa. Being separated during the war was hell, uh, excuse me, was awful. We swore we’d do our best never to be separated like that again.”

“I believe you truly did, what did you say all those years ago? ‘Marry only for love’?”

“Marrying Anne was truly the greatest choice I’ve ever made,” he said, then paused, his eyes growing wide as the implication of his words registered.

“Winnie—”

But she waved him off. “Turns out, Gilbert Blythe, not marrying you was the greatest choice I’ve ever made. So we’re even.”

They shared a companionable silence for a moment. An easy, friendly silence that somehow brought a closure neither knew they needed. 

“Ah, there she is,” Winnie said suddenly. “My partner and I are headed off to dine at Château Lafayette. But let’s be sure to meet up tomorrow and exchange contacts. I can give you more information for your patients, and you can keep me updated on your research and family.”

Gilbert agreed, and watched as Winnie made her way towards an attractive woman. Just as he was about to turn away, his newly rediscovered friend turned back and said, “You were right by the way.”

He frowned, his brows lowering. “About?”

“Love,” she said simply. She turned from him, but not before throwing a significant look at the woman waiting for her. “Only for love.”

Gilbert’s brows flew up before a half smiled formed on his lips.

With an extra bounce in his step he ran into the hotel, happy they had both found their dream.

The end 

(For real this time)


End file.
